Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(70)

“Were you happily married, Mrs. K.?” I ask as her gnarled hands fold sweaters with surprising agility. Though she’s only going for two days, she’s got six complete outfits laid out on the bed. I sit on the comforter, handing her clothes as directed.

“Oh, yes,” she replies. “We were. I’ll take those pink argyles, dear.”

“And what was your secret?” I smile, knowing how she loves to talk about Mr. K., who’s been dead for more than twenty years.

“I think, dear, that our secret was lots of sex,” she says matter-of-factly. “You can’t be too unhappy if you’re having lots of sex.”

“I see.” I’m blushing. “Well. Good for you. That’s great.”

“I miss it, I must say,” she says. “Of course, now it would probably kill me, but if you’re going to die…”

“Mrs. K.!” I laugh. “You’re so surprising.”

“Well, now, people aren’t really so different, Maggie,” she tells me. “Dear, I need that cardigan. You and that scowling man, what’s his name? McCoy?”

“Malone,” I mumble, my face igniting.

“Yes, Malone. From the sounds of it, you’ll be very happy.” She laughs merrily. “You were quite rosy when you came home the other day.”

“Okay. Must run. Have a wonderful weekend.” Mortified and secretly pleased to have impressed the old lady, I kiss her cheek and flee upstairs.

And speaking of secretly pleased, there’s a part of me that can’t help feeling a little…smug…about my parents’ divorce. Though it’s a shock, and not a good one, there’s a certain sense of vindication floating around in my chest.

I always thought my father was too good for my mom. She never seemed to appreciate him, always picked on him, ordering him about like Napoleon sending his troops to Russia. And like Napoleon, she’d gone too far. I’m sorry for the embarrassment and discomfort, sorry that our family will never be the same, but it seems my mother had this coming.

I pull out one of my nicer sweaters and take a little time with some makeup. The volunteer appreciation dinner is guaranteed to be a fun event. Father Tim feeds us well, gives us plenty to drink. We usually out stay fairly late. Last time, Beth Seymour played the piano and we all sang. Later, several of us went into the church, supposedly for a midnight prayer, and ended up laughing so hard that Betty Zebrowski wet her pants. It’s one of the better parties in town.

When I get to the rectory, everyone else is already there—Mrs. Plutarski, unfortunately, Louise Evans, Mabel Greenwood, Jacob Pelletier, Noah Grimley and Beth Seymour. Betty the pants-wetter is in the hospital for bladder suspension surgery.

“Maggie!” Father Tim barks as I enter. He leaps over to me and takes my hand warmly, holding on to it for a long moment. “How are you, dearie?” he asks. “I called you the other day, but you weren’t home. I’ve been thinking of you and your lovely Colonel, as well.”

“Thanks, Father Tim,” I say, warmed by his consideration.

“I’m so glad you came. Now the party can really begin. A drink, Maggie? I’ve broken out the good stuff, and it’s going faster than the devil in a roomful of Baptists.”

Father Tim is in top form. He passes hors d’oeuvres, prying the tray out of Mrs. Plutarski’s clenched hands as she tries to nail her part as “most helpful one here.” Though I often compete for that role, tonight I’m content to be waited on. I chew contentedly on scallops wrapped in bacon and lobster cheese puffs and chat with Jacob, who reshingled the leaky part of St. Mary’s roof last year.

“These are delicious, Father Tim.” I gesture with my lobster puff as the priest refills my glass.

“I knew they were your favorite, Maggie,” he says with a crooked grin. “I’d serve them at Mass if it’d get you coming back.” I smile in response but don’t answer. Jake wanders off to flirt with Louise Evans—apparently they had a thing in high school, some forty years past—and Father Tim’s face grows serious.

“Maggie, I had a talk with your dear mother today,” he says quietly.

“Oh, wow. That was fast. Yes.” I take a deep breath. “How is she? I called her but she wasn’t in.”

“She’s devastated, of course. And hoping your father will see the light. I’ve offered to do some counseling in the hope that we can make things better without having to resort to…well, you know.” He pats my hand, then squeezes it. “It must be terrible for you.”

“It’s definitely a shock,” I say carefully. “The thing is, Father Tim, my mother—well, she’s not an easy person to live with. And she doesn’t really try to see anyone else’s point of view, if you know what I mean.”

“That I do, Maggie, that I do. And yet we’re talking about the sacrament of marriage. It’s to be preserved at all costs. You don’t just walk away from someone you love.”

“Hmm,” I say. “Yes, of course. But my father’s been henpecked for years, Father Tim. You’ve seen that, haven’t you? She really doesn’t…well. Maybe now’s not the time to talk about it,” I say as Beth makes desperate eye contact with me. Noah Grimley has left the platter of shrimp cocktail and moved on to her, and as he’s old enough to be her grandfather and missing his front teeth to boot, I must intervene. She did the same for me last fall.